


One More Night

by blushingninja



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Couch Cuddles, Dry Humping, F/M, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-20
Updated: 2013-09-24
Packaged: 2017-12-27 03:31:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/973789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blushingninja/pseuds/blushingninja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prussia has secretly loved Hungary for years and when he discovers a truth about Austria, he finds an opportunity to pursue the woman of his dreams. But will she return his affections?<br/>Human names used and slight AU.</p><p>(Due to a computer crash the rest of this fic was lost. It will not be continued. My apologies)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You & I Go Hard At Each Other

**Author's Note:**

> My first Hetalia fic! Yay! This is my Hetalia OTP, I think they're adorable and perfect together! Title inspired by: Maroon 5 One More Night. It was playing on repeat as I was writing this. Cheers

He was laughing again, and it was a real laugh. Elizabeta knew it well. It was a husky, booming tone that held none of the harsh sarcasm and arrogance that she usually received when Gilbert laughed at her. Locked behind the closed door of his office Elizabeta thought better than to disturb him, she was having such a lovely Friday afternoon, why ruin it? Still, she couldn't help but wonder what had provoked his humour enough to make him laugh out loud. Pacing the corridors of her adopted home restlessly, she trailed a finger along a board windowsill and looked out to the carefully tended gardens.

Living with Ludwig was not so bad, in fact on the odd occasion she enjoyed it. It was a large estate, larger than Roderich’s had been, and with enough room that all the occupants and their guests could live in comfort and relative peace. This wasn't the first shift of house Elizabeta had lived through and it certainly wouldn't be the last. But it was the most close to home she'd ever felt in a long time. Surrounded by the calamity of a prospering, young nation like Ludwig gave her a feeling of security, especially concerning her economy. While the company of her ex husband and childhood friend/enemy tired her; Roderich and Gilbert filled her with a feeling of comforting familiarity. Whenever she'd awake in the morning to hear augments, or even full blown bawls in the middle of the night, there was a kind of serenity to living in such a dysfunctional environment. As well as that she had the best of both worlds; Ludwig took care in ensuring her country was safe and well protected as well as being the clear voice of reason between his brother and Roderich. The Austrian had always been a listening ear and his diligent practice of music lifted the household's spirit and soothed many angry tempers. Gilbert however had always been her bane, but he was a beloved one, dragging Elizabeta out for drinking and darts (which he always lost, on purpose he boasted, just to please her.)  
Since the end of the Second World War Elizabeta had enjoyed the peace and freedom of the twenty first century, with the only battles she could foresee in the future was her struggling economy, which now thanks to Ludwig was a battle she would not have to fight alone. 

Leaving the house and Gilbert's rough, echoing laughter, Elizabeta took a seat under a shaded tree, relaxing in a warm patch of sun. She did so for some time until the shadow of a tall figure fell over her sunny patch. Opening her eyes a slither to observe the man in front of her Elizabeta smiled. 

She loved him, even as children she'd been fond of him and later they'd used that fondness to forge a marriage.   
But that had been it. It always had and always would be a fond form of love and affection, nothing else.   
“Can I help you? You're in my sun.” Straightening his jacket Roderich Edelstein, the Austrian Nation stared down at his ex wife.  
“I won't be for long. I'll be away this weekend.” His glasses flashed for a second in the sun, “for another music conference.”   
Elizabeta's heart sank. Forcing a smile, she nodded;   
“Oh lovely, will you be away from the entire weekend?” If he'd heard the undertone of venom in her voice, he didn't let on.   
“Yes, the whole three days, the hotel address is in the usual spot.” Leaning down stiffly, Roderich pressed a soft kiss to Elizabeta's brown hair. “I'll see you on Sunday evening.”  
“Good bye,” she said, watching him cross the lawn and re-enter the house.

Her previous good mood spoilt, Elizabeta sighed. She wasn't upset, not really. Roderich's music conferences had been going on for centuries, even throughout their marriage. There was no or little music really involved in these weekends. Roderich would go to a location and have gentleman callers pay him visits. What would follow Elizabeta assumed was a weekend long orgy, although she'd never asked. She didn't really want to know, it just hurt too much. As much as she want him to be happy, he obliviously didn't want her 'that way.' They'd shared many things during their time together, but sex had never been one of them. It made Elizabeta feel useless, she'd long ago accepted her femininity, but being unable to uphold a role she'd been informed was key to her job as wife frustrated her.

Leaning back against the tree, a dull thud of a slamming car door echoed from the other side of the garden, signalling Roderich's getaway. He just couldn't wait to leave Elizabeta thought, knocking her head back against the trunk. But that wasn't fair, taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes and took in the beauty of the garden, willing herself to be calm. This was something she'd dealt with a hundred times before and knew the remedy to combat the feelings of hurt and frustration. Ice cream, ice cream always helped. 

 

Double chocolate chip ice cream was a saviour. When she'd first tried it years ago Elizabeta knew she'd found a friend forever. Digging her spoon into the hard chocolate cream, television channels raced by until she settled on a boring chat show re-run. Drawing the blanket up and around her shoulders she relaxed into the cushions, munching down her spoonful of joy.   
“You look like a wet pussy, missing your wuss already?” Craning her neck up, Elizabeta meet the starling blue and unearthly crimson eyes of the two brothers. Ludwig was dressed in a neatlt pressed uniform, the thick coat on his shoulders sparked her interest, making it easier to ignore the Prussian's jibe.   
“Are you going out Ludwig?” Also choosing to ignore his brother's taunting the taller man replied promptly.   
“Yes Feliciano's house is hosting an Opera evening.” Nodding Elizabeta took another spoonful of ice cream and brought it up over her head, offering it to the company behind her. Cheeks reddening slightly, Ludwig shook his head, but Gilbert dived down on the spoon, devouring it, then licking the sweet offering from his lips and as his brother donned his cap and turned to leave.  
“Have a good night!” Elizabeta called after him “I'll leave the porch light on for you.” Grunting his thanks, the German gently closed the door behind him, muttering something about not bothering with the light. 

Laughing harsh and rakishly Gilbert stalked around the sofa, pushing the wad of blankets away to collapse next to Elizabeta. Pouncing quickly on the television remote before she could stop him, the silver haired man channels surfed before settling on the ending scenes of Speed.

“You know dragging your chin around won't make the time pass any quicker.” Glancing at him as she dug out another spoonful, Elizabeta sniffed airily.   
“I'm not dragging my chin.” Scoffing Gilbert stretched out his legs, resting them on the coffee table front of them.  
“Don't do that, Ludwig doesn't like it when you do that.” Elizabeta warned him in a smug tone, watching him shrug and lose interest in the topic of Austria and his weekend away.   
“West isn't here, and what West doesn't know, won't hurt him. It'll be our little secret.” He paused; “just like if you want to cry because Pansy Pants isn't here.” Years of dealing with the Prussian ass-hat helped Elizabeta ignore his teasing, but appreciate his sentiment regardless. Standing she flicked off the blankets, placed the lid on the ice cream container and left for the kitchen. Her icy silence giving Gilbert enough indication of what she thought of their 'little secrets.' 

Ice cream in the freezer and spoon in the sink, Elizabeta took a moment to compose herself before returning to the living room. Gilbert had vanished by the time she returned, slinking back to his own quarters no doubt, happy to leave her sulking in her own misery. If she was lucky, he'd now avoid her for the rest of the weekend. Rearranging herself back into a comfortable nest of blankets and cushions, she switched the station to a late night music channel, raising the volume to hopefully annoy Gilbert for the rest of the evening. 

“Royal or Dynasty Imperial? Both are cut clean and clear, won't burn like Finlandia.” Two bottles of vodka were pushed in Elizabeta's face. Looking up at Gilbert who shook the bottles impatiently, she made a quick choice.   
“Royal, but I'm not picky,”  
“I knew you'd pick Royal” Gilbert bragged, slapping down two crystal glasses on the coffee table.  
“It reminds me of the occupation,” she said. Pouring out two rough shots of the clear spirit, Gilbert frowned.  
“And that's a good thing?”  
Elizabeta shrugged, taking the glass he offered her;  
“Not at the time but the alcohol was nice, I'll give Ivan one thing, he knows his vodka.” Clinking glasses briefly, they tossed back their shots. Licking the rim of the glass for any linger remnants, Elizabeta hummed. The heat of the vodka burnt all the way down, forcing her more awake then she'd been all afternoon.   
“Thank you” she said, holding out her glass for another shot, grunting Gilbert took the seat beside her and poured another round. Shivering at the second impact of the shot, Elizabeta relaxed even more into the warmth of the sofa and alcohol. 

“I was serious you know” Opening her eyes against the running blur of the television, Elizabeta turned towards Gilbert.  
“Serious about what, when?” The unsettling red of Gilbert's eyes gazed over by vodka, darted quickly away and then back to hers.   
“If you wanted to cry about missing Roderich.” Laughing out loud Elizabeta swiped the bottle off the table, not even bother to measure a glass and she sipped straight from it.   
“I don't miss Roderich,” resting her head back against the sofa again, her took a smaller sip.   
“I just...” she stopped. Gilbert had been many things to her over the years, but a shoulder to cry on had not really been one of them, drinking buddy however was a different story.   
“I'm one up on you.” Grinning at the not so subtle change in conversation, Gilbert scoffed at Elizabeta's cocky smile.  
“Oh yeah right, not for long! Like you can compare with my awesomeness!”

 

As the night grew long and the bottle emptied, the music become louder as the pair got drunken.  
“Dammit woman, drink more!” Tipping the bottle up into Elizabeta's open mouth, Gilbert laughed as the clear liquor trickled out the corner of her lips. Gagging she feebly swiped out at him but still continued to drink, pausing only when the bottle ran dry.   
“Another!” She screamed, her voice breathless, knocking the now empty bottle out of Gilbert's hands and onto the floor. 

Laughing he uncorked the second bottle, his face was filled with drunken surprise as it was commandeered from his grasp. Elizabeta was as strong as ever he thought, suddenly finding himself pinned to the sofa. Her knees either side of his thighs, she leant up proudly above him. Her hair was loose and falling down around her face, cheeks red with alcohol, laughter and heat. When had the room gotten so hot? Gilbert couldn't remember, somewhere in his foggy memory he remembered loosen his tie and unbuttoning the top buttons on his shirt. Was that tonight? Or just the routine memory of what he did every night. Elizabeta was rubbing against his legs now, swaying slightly above him, her balance hampered by her intoxication. Bottle in one hand, she stretched out the another finding Gilbert's shoulder and latching on tight for support, steadying her from falling backwards off the sofa. But she missed his shoulder, only just, her hand coming to rest at the nook of his neck, on his collarbone. Soft fingers caressed along the exposed skin of his chest, clarity broke through his booze induced haze, so he had popped some buttons at some during the night.

Her height seemed to please her, a smile on her beautiful face, lips turned up in triumphant, he'd seen her look like this before, on the battlefield and sometimes in the home, but never close up and not as she looked down upon him.   
“Here! You drink ape! As if you could out drink me. I am of the old Germanic blood too!”  
Sloshing vodka down Gilbert's front, the Prussian barely registered the dripping cold which soaked through his shirt. He was too warm, near overheating, she was just too close. But he wouldn't move her, couldn't, especially as she forced his lips around the open bottle and turned it up right. Eyes watering, Gilbert sculled the offered drink, a challenge to his heritage she had made and it was one he would step up to, especially as Elizabeta chatter incessantly above him.

“I remember when Ivan challenged you to that drinking contest. Do you remember? We kept the vodka outside in the snow so it'd chill, oh when was it? 1790 perhaps? Ahh, wasn't that a night, I thought you'd never stop screaming after you lost and the Russian touched your hair. All the while yelling, 'I'm awesome, I didn't lose, I'm too awesome!'” Laughing as the man under her began to gag, Elizabeta took pity on him and lowered the bottle. No one could drink that quickly on such an angle, not ever the great Ivan, and Gilbert was wasting more then he was drinking. 

Suddenly the world shifted beneath her, the seat she was perched upon bucked. The room twisted in motion as Gilbert rolled his hips against hers. A shiver rocketed through her, dizzily rocking back, she narrowed her eyes down at him. There was a gleam in his eyes, hot and strong, a muffled gurgle came from behind the bottle, as she tried to pull it away, his hands rose and tipped it upright again. He was not backing down from the challenge, even if it killed him, or at least made him violently ill. Nodding her understanding, Elizabeta continued to hold the bottle up, the knees that had been pinning him to the sofa had slid forward during their small tussle. Their hips now sliding comfortably together any time either of them moved. Whenever Gilbert gulped another scolding metallic mouthful, his whole body shook, leaving Elizabeta brainless. The bottle in her hands was barely staying upright, she was nearly trembling as he finished off the last of it, sucking down the final drops until it was empty. Releasing her hold on the glass base of the bottle, it fell to the floor limply. 

She was still swaying perilously over him, on instinct he reached out to steady her, clamping his hands down on her slender hips. Prompted by his sudden movement, their hips met again. As if driven by some primal desire, they connected yet again, both grinding hard against each other, the feeling intensified. Surging through both of them to break through the alcohol and formality.

Gasping Elizabeta held tight to Gilbert's shoulders, rubbing hard against his upward thrusts, the fingers at her waist digging in almost painfully as he met her stroke for stroke, bringing her down faster and grinding against her for longer. Falling forward, hair tumbling down around her ears, Elizabeta looked at Gilbert, a real, hard look. Red eyes dazed with intoxication and arousal, signature silver hair tussled by her hands fell over his eyes at a jaunty angel. Tie loose, buttons free and showing a delicious square of chest, her eyes wandered further downwards. The spilt vodka had soaked through the fabric of his shirt, turning the soft, white cotton into a intriguing transparent film over the hard muscle of his chest and torso. 

He certainly wasn't as soft or lean as Roderich, or as broad and built as Ludwig, but he was beautifully crafted through years of battle, successes and hardships. Through either the chill of the vodka or the heat of arousal, his pale nipples hardened under the wet cloth. Lowering a hand down from his collarbone, Elizabeta touched a finger tip to the hard nub. He immediately bucked harder against her, spending more hot shocks to run up and down her spine. Fuelled by alcoholic clarity and confidence from his reaction, Elizabeta pinched lightly at his flesh, rewarded with a low moan that broke Gilbert's breathless streak. 

Arching his back off the sofa, Gilbert pushed his chest into Elizabeta 's hands, willing her to continue. Grinning she twisted lightly, revelling in the feeling of power that filled her. Fingers wet with vodka she pulled her hands away, pushing herself impossibly closer. Their chests connected, foreheads colliding gently. Clear emeralds eyes met deep rubies orbs as they stared at each other. Their lips close enough to feel the soft puffs of breath exhaled from one another. Heartbeats pounded in unison within their chests, hips pumping simultaneously. 

“Elizabeta” she blinked, Gilbert had spoken in a voice so quiet and tender she couldn't truly believe he'd said it. They were closer now, nose to nose, as close as they could physically, with no space between them, they were almost linked, nearly as one. It was just them in the world, no one else, the room was dim, an intensely hot atmosphere closing in more and more as if they were locked in some dark, sensual chest. 

Gilbert's mind raced as she touched him again, her fingers filtering through his hair. This has to be a dream he thought, there was no way in hell the Hungarian Harpy would be sitting his lap, dry humping his rock hard cock, drunk or not, and especially not if she was missing Lord Dandy Pants. 

Austria!

Clamping his hands down suddenly on those tantalising rotating hips, Gilbert forced them still. Squeezing his eyes shut, he refused to look at Elizabeta least he lose his resolve. His stomach rolled with guilt and possible alcohol poisoning. 

Regardless of their years apart Elizabeta still belonged to Roderich, he knew that, West knew that, everyone knew that! They'd been together for so many years, their marriage ending only due to the separate of nations on request of their bosses. Bile rose in his throat, he was particularly stealing another man's wife, adultery was a chief sin and here he was about to bang the woman of his dreams, who belonged to the man of his nightmares. Taking a deep breath, Gilbert opened his eyes, Elizabeta was still posed above him, her hips still in his hands, she looked tense, all the previous powerful confidence was gone.

“Gilbert” she said, easing into his name, as one would speak to a frightened animal, did she think he was scared?  
“Elizabeta, I-I...” Hips still held in his hands she leant back, her breasts damp and firm through her blouse caught his eyes. Physically flinching he looked away, he felt sick, his mouth was watering, his eyes unfocused, hands clammy.  
“Gilbert, what's wrong?”  
“I. Am. Going. To. Puke!”

Pushing the woman aside with a swiftness that surprised a very drunk Gilbert, jumping the sofa, he sprinted to the toilet just in time. 

Rubbing her side where the corner of the coffee table had met her hip, Elizabeta listened to Gilbert's sounds of distress with grim confusion. What the hell had just happened? They'd all but made out on the sofa! Was she really that lonely that Gilbert seemed a suitable partner? Anyone seems like a good partner with enough drinks she reminded herself. Heaving herself off the floor, she stumbled through the halls and down to the bathroom. 

Gilbert seemed to be over the worst of it, kneeling beside the loo, he spat into the bowl a final time and turned to face Elizabeta.   
“Wait” she slurred and dashed drunkly to the kitchen, retrieving a glass of water and rushing back to the bathroom in time to help Gilbert up from the floor. Steadying himself on the wall, he nudged her away and grabbed the water. Sensing the awkward shift in mood, Elizabeta leant in the doorway, watching him finish the glass and pour another. 

“What was so funny?” she said after a time, the silent was uncomfortable, the hot growing pit of heat in her stomach was slowly festering into anxiety.   
“What?” he snapped, red eyes glared at her from the mirror above the basin as he downed yet another glass.   
“This morning what was making you laugh? In your office.” Those red eyes didn't let up, but his face lost some of its aggression.  
“Cats.” Elizabeta blinked, turning her body towards him in the door way, because in no way could that be correct. Gilbert hated cats, they posed a serious threat to his birds and Ludwig was allergic.   
“Cats” she repeated unsure, he nodded, putting down the glass.   
“Yes, cats on the internet.” She raised an eyebrow at him, throwing his hands up in an over dramatic expression of despair he must have learnt from Italy, Gilbert stormed from the bathroom dragging Elizabeta with him. Entering his quarters, Gilbert unlocked his office and ushered her inside. Booting up his laptop, he carolled her into the chair behind the desk. Typing a search into a media site, Elizabeta watched in amazement as the screen was filled with clips of cats dancing, playing the piano, singing, even a cat with sad face that bore a striking resemblance to Arthur Kirkland, she couldn't help but laugh.

Leaning against the wall of his office, Gilbert tried to force down the conflicting emotions swarming inside him. Crossing his arms tightly over his chest, he closed his eyes to think for a moment, but Elizabeta carefree laughter didn't help. Would she remember this in the morning? How drunk was she? He had poured a lot of booze into her, why did she have to do that! Clamber all over him like a horny teenager, it was all her fault! If that prick Roderich wanted to cause an issue about a little bit of grab ass so be it. Gilbert would just inform him he needed to take better care of his ex wife and her sex drive in the future. 

Huffing in satisfaction, Gilbert looked up, ready to kick the bitch off his chair and into the hall, but he paused. She wasn't laughing any more, in fact she wasn't even moving. Dashing across the room Gilbert watched her carefully, the angle of her neck, her legs curled up on the chair, eyes closed, with a dreamy, innocent expression on her sleeping face.

She'd passed out. 

Brushing stray chestnut hair from her cheeks, Gilbert bent low, heaving Elizabeta up and holding her close. His shirt was nearly dry and thankfully she wasn't all that heavy. Manoeuvring out of the office and down the estate, he paused at her room. Skilfully bumping the lock open, Elizabeta made a quiet mewing noise as he holstered her into bed, clumsily wrapping the covers snugly around her like a cocoon, Gilbert knelt beside the bed.

She was beautiful. It had concerned him in his youth how attracted he found himself to the scrawny long haired brat. When she'd finally revealed her identity as a woman he found a certain feeling of closure, but he could never say it. Even admitting it to himself was impossible, and he'd never had a chance with her, she ran straight to Roderich and had stayed with him for what seemed like forever now. 

Clenching his fists, he stood up jaggedly, staring down at the sleeping princess he so greatly admired and hated all at the same time. He couldn't do it, he couldn't blame her, he'd been the instigator, getting her that drunk was sure to have consequences he'd known that, but he certainly didn't expect it to be so extreme. Drunken innuendo and maybe passing out drunk spooning together yeah sure, but nothing like what they'd done. 

With one last look Gilbert left her room, closing the door as quietly as he could and striding down the hall to his own quarters he sighed angrily. The pounding dehydration headache was already kicking in and the morning promised one hell of a hangover.


	2. Chapter Two

Everything hurt and nothing was okay, rolling over at the sound of knocking, Gilbert fought the urge to vomit. This was a bad one, when was the last time a hangover had hit him so bad? Even the dark of his room wasn't dim enough, it hurt his eyes as he opened them to glare at the door.  
“Nope, fuck off, not today.”   
“Gilbert, the International Tribunal has called an early meeting-”  
“That's nice, oh wait, I'm not a country I don't care!” But Ludwig was as insistent as ever.   
“That's not the point, do you know where Austria is?” Gilbert frowned. Roderich was away somewhere, that's why Elizabeta had been so sad, and that's why he'd tried to cheer her up...

His stomach rolled. Elizabeta! What had happened between them last night! 

Ludwig knocked again and swiftly entered. Pulling the blankets up to his chin, Gilbert let out a surprised cry, which turned into a moan at the piercing light which poured in through the open windows Ludwig threw open.   
“Dammit West, I don't know! Ask Elizabeta!” Covering his head with blankets Gilbert pondered how Miss Hedervary was faring this morning.   
“I tried, she's unwell this morning.” The disapproving tone in Ludwig's voice had Gilbert peeking over the covers.  
“Ha! No surprise there, weak little girl can't handle her booze!”  
“Neither can you by the look of it” his brother replied sourly. Frowning Gilbert gingerly sat up, rubbing sleep from his eyes and gauging his body's wellness. Beyond the headache, his stomach had settled down considerably, and while the sun was painful, that just meant he was going to look extra awesome today in designer sunglasses.   
“I've been worse, still awesome though.” Gilbert paused “did you check the fridge?” Ludwig pulled a face, thinking over the question slowly and resulting in nothing.   
“The fridge?” Standing up Gilbert stretched, muscles sore and tired from the restless night's sleep.   
“Yes dumbass the fridge, where they stick all their gay little love poems.” Ludwig still wasn't following. Groaning Gilbert pulled on a pair of pants and walked from his quarters and into the large communal kitchen. 

Two industrial size fridges worked as a canvas for Roderich and Elizabeta's fridge poetry. A collection of magnetic single words that could be strung together to make poetry or lists. Currently there were four discernible clumps of text on the stainless steel fridge. The first was the last remaining letters of a poem Elizabeta had made for Ludwig:

“Just a sweet warning, only for you, and not at all out of the blue. But if I find that Italian nut in my laundry again, he'll feel the wrath of Russia's magic cane”

The second was a slur Prussia had strung together while waiting for his turkey dinner to finish microwaving.

“Soggy manatee butt plug with cake and a beer, take my sausage out of here”

Third was a shopping list someone had posted at some point:  
“Dish washing liquid  
Green apple cider  
Bacon  
Eggs  
Milk  
Star fruit”

The final message was the one Ludwig had been searching for.  
“Wingless Angels  
45648 Armour St   
Rm 4 - R”

 

Eyes hidden behind his sunglasses Gilbert leant back enjoying the butter soft leather head rest of Ludwig's mercedes. Even with a shower and an entire pot of boiling hot coffee, he still felt half asleep with his headache still pounding. Gilbert had volunteered to accompany Ludwig to pick Roderich up. The prick wasn't answering his phone and with the meeting deadline fast approaching their best bet was just to go to him.

“Turn left in two hundred metres” Glaring at the very American female voice on the GPS, Gilbert stretched in his seat.  
“Won't be long now,” he said. Ludwig nodded, keeping his eyes peeled for the hotel on Roderich's fridge message.   
Finding it on the corner of the next street was easy, but finding a car park in the area was much harder. After their third loop around the block, Gilbert slammed his hand down on the dash.   
“Just pull over up here, I'll go in and get him, just keep circling.” Nodding, Ludwig pulled over at the curb to let Gilbert, pulling away as his brother dashed through the hotel's doors. 

Walking down the long, strongly disinfectant corridors, Gilbert counted the room numbers stopping at room four. Rapping sharply on the door, he waited. Taking a step back as the door was opened by a scantily clad man with bright blue eyes and a tan. Blinking in confusion, Gilbert looked away from the man to the wall beside the door.  
“Oh I am so sorry, I was looking for my-”  
“Roddy's room? Yes, we've been expecting you please come in. Did you bring the champagne? I am just dying for a champagne breakfast.” Laughing the young man turned and retreated into the room, waving Gilbert inside.   
“We have more guests! Champagne for everyone!” Following the man in his underwear, Gilbert took in the decorated open area that led to the grand bedroom.

He stopped. 

The scene playing out before him was thing he'd been completely unprepared for. 

Roderich and men... 

Roderich with three other men, in a bed, cock deep in each other. 

Roderich, Elizabeta's Roderich's was here.

While she was at home missing him.

“You fucking piece of shit!” Looking up confused purple eyes widened in shock. A look of terror flashed across Roderich's vulnerable features. Tumbling off the bed and its occupants Roderich attempted to cover himself as Gilbert stalked across the room and tossed him against the wall.   
“What the fuck!? What the actual fuck!? You cheating piece of shit, how dare you! How very dare you!” Roderich's entourage began fleeing the room as Gilbert landed a swift punch to Roderich's stomach, watching him kneel and cough in pain.   
“I-I...what are you talking about? Oww, what are you doing here?” Stepping back Gilbert flexed his hand, looking around the room for something else to smash. He settled on a near by glass coffee table, flipping it over but not succeeding in actually breaking the glass.   
“There's a meeting, Ludwig is outside.” Eyes blazing the Prussia again turned on Roderich. “And I'm talking about Elizabeth, you fucking cheating cocksucker.” Crawling across the floor to the bed, Roderich retrieved his glasses, staring up at the angry man with clarity.   
“Meeting? What meeting? And Elizabeta knows, God she's known for years. Oh God, my stomach, what the hell is wrong with you?” His words fell on deaf ears, as Gilbert wasn't listening. 

Elizabeta knows...she's known for years. Known that her ex husband was fucking men, she'd known about it... for years? How many years? Centuries? Physically shaking in rage, Gilbert stormed from the room, leaving Roderich calling after him. 

How many years could he have had with her? Had it been happened during their marriage? Had they even laid together as husband and wife? Rubbing his face, headache throbbing a hundred times worse then before. Gilbert collapsed against the wall of the foyer, oblivious to his surroundings, engrossed in his thoughts of what could have been.

 

Not only did her head ache, but her stomach refused to settle down, plus the odd aches and pains that would pop up whenever she moved a certain way and on top of all that her feet were still cold.

Holding her head in her hands Elizabeta stifled a yawn. This meeting was a drag, she was aware everyone was failing economically, they all had been for the last three years, but calling a meeting on a Saturday to discuss it seemed like overkill and it was certainly not helping to improve her mood. Ludwig and Roderich had entered half way through the proceedings, but there was no sign of Gilbert. That wasn't surprising, since he technically was now a ward of Germany and as such wasn't required to attend, although he would sometimes pop up, just to remind people he existed. But today was not one of those days, hopefully he was suffering as much as she was. 

He'd drunk more last night hadn't he? When she'd climbed into his lap and bottle feed him almost a litre of straight liquor. But he'd been violently ill, just after they almost kissed. 

An involuntary shiver ran through Elizabeta at the memory. Clouded judgement was one thing, but damn it had felt good. It was so foreign and familiar at the same time. The face, the voice, the mannerism and the body of her beloved bane had been seen in an entirely different light, it was so conflicting! As much as he tried her patience, he had been a constant, unmoving pillar in her life, and now... Now he was just a far too tempting opportunity. 

Shaking her head and causing the room to spin, Elizabeta's sighed, looking down at the desk in front of her. That couldn't be right, she'd woken up alone, and still clothed and hadn't he stopped them from kissing? Did he suddenly remember who she was? All the pain and mockery she'd caused him over the years? Or did he just plan to toy with her emotions, he was a difficult man to gauge at the best of times let alone while drunk. Sighing she closed her eyes against the aggressive bright lights of the hall and struggled to follow the speakers address. 

 

The meeting ended with the overall result as expected, the economy was failing and everyone needed more money. It was a situation Elizabeta had struggled through before and it concerned her little.

Meeting Roderich and Ludwig in the foyer, she looked around for Gilbert's distinct silver hair.   
“You're back early” she said to the Austrian as they approached her, sniffing angrily, Roderich nodded stiffly.  
“Duty called” There was an ice to his words that Elizabeta wished to question, but held her tongue as Ludwig ushered them from the building to the car. The ride home was silent and uncomfortable. There was a foul tension in the air that Elizabeta could almost chocked on, her unsettled stomach turned at the prospect that something horrible had happened. They parted swiftly upon entering the house, with Elizabeta trailing behind Austria, following him to his quarters.

“What's wrong?” she asked finally, locked behind closed doors.   
Sitting down gingerly Roderich removed his glasses to rub at his eyes.   
“Gilbert knows” A wash of hot and cold crashed over Elizabeth. Gilbert, Gilbert with who'd she shared a moment with last night. Gilbert who had placed her in bed last night, rather then leave her bent over an uncomfortable office chair. Gilbert who had suspected her gender long before anyone else had. Gilbert knew what?

“What?” Purple eyes flashed as Roderich donned his glasses.  
“Prussia knows about my music conferences.” Slapping a hand over her mouth as a knee jerk reaction, Elizabeta wasn't sure what to say. While Roderich had wished to keep his personal affairs his own business, he'd never denied or confirmed any details on his sexual orientation. Many had assumed and Gilbert surely must have been one of them.  
“What happened?” Taking the seat across from him, Elizabeta lay her hand atop his knee, patting it soothingly. Roderich took a deep breath, his expression pained, they'd never discussed his weekends away and this had been an unexpected and unpleasant start to the discussions.

“He walked in on some of my friends and I engaging in.... our play and he didn't take it well.” Blinking Elizabeta frowned, but Roderich continued.  
“He threw me against the wall and-” he stopped meeting her eye for a moment “he accused me of cheating on you.” Face twisted in confusion, Elizabeta pondered over his words before speaking.  
“But we haven't been married for years, we've shared separate quarters for years, in fact we always have. Why would he think that? I don't understand...” Roderich shrugged, wincing.  
“He was like a man possessed, he didn't even care about the gay part, he issue was with the cheating”  
“But there isn't any cheating!” Elizabeta cried out in frustration, “and even if there was, why does he care?” Roderich lost his composure for second, just a spilt second but Elizabeta saw it, she knew him too well to miss it.   
“What?” Clearing his throat Roderich looked away.  
“I'm not sure if it's my place to say.” Frowning Elizabeta felt her temper rise angrily.  
“Just spit it out Roderich! I have no time for your games!” Austria blanched, when Elizabeta rolled her r's things were getting serious.  
“It was you, he cared about you. Your feelings, hurting you. He thought I was hurting you.”

Elizabeta couldn't move, Roderich’s word shaking her to the very core. 

Why would Gilbert care about her? Beyond their current neutral tolerance of each other they'd been at each others throat’s for years. Last night had been the exception, hadn't it?  
“Elizabeta” Roderich placed his hand atop hers, squeezing. Mind racing Elizabeta stood up;  
“I need to think,” rushing to the door, she paused before leaving.   
“Thank you Roderich,” the dark haired man looked curiously at her.  
“Whatever for Elizabeta? On all accounts I've upset you,” She shook her head.  
“No, not at all, your honesty is appreciated.” Closing the door behind her, Elizabeta clenched her fists as she stormed down the halls. 

What was the ape playing at? Man-handling Roderich was one thing but this claim!? Letting out a frustrated hiss she turned the corner roughly, knocking her shoulder on the wall as she did. Cursing a sting of traditional Hungarian cusses, she rubbed the shoulder and looked up.

He looked posed to run, a deer in headlights expression on those rough, pale features. Gilbert looked as though he knew he was in trouble.

“You!” Running forward Elizabeta pulled at the front of his shirt, pulling him down to her level, eyes blazing.   
“What the hell?! What the hell is wrong with you?!” Red eyes looked unsure for a moment, not meeting her gaze, he shrugged.  
Pushing harder against his chest Elizabeta stepped back, with chin held high, she was direct and to the point.  
“You know, about Roderich?” Uncertainty turned to cruelty as a grim smirk spread across his thin lips.  
“Oh yes, always knew he was a wuss, but a faggot? Never gave it a second thought and you put up a nice little ploy for him, didn't you?” He must have seen the slap coming, but he didn't move. 

Gilbert wanted it to hurt, anything to fill the aching emptiness that had filled him since he'd stormed from the hotel that morning.   
“You bastard, how dare you! What right do you have to judge his decisions, to judge my decisions? You don't know anything!” Growling, the Pussian's look could have killed.  
“Oh I know, I understand how it is! And I dare, I dare to question that decision” He stopped, struggling for words, he was so angry! At her, at Roderich, at himself for not seeing it sooner.   
“I wish you did, I wish you knew,” she said. Biting her lip Elizabeta refused to cry, the bubbling emotions inside her turning her legs to jelly as she collapsed in front of him, her hands fisting on the cuff of his pants.  
“Why? Why do you care?” 

He'd seen her fall before; in exhaustion, pain. With tears, fears and terror but never, never like this. Glittering gems wet with tears stared up at him. She was the devil, bringing up emotions and desires he'd buried and walled up long ago in his heart, and now as she knelt before him, head bent in confusion and submission, his walls crumbled.

“I care.” he said kneeling to balanced out their height. Gilbert gulped, his heart beating louder and harder then he'd ever imagined. Long, slender fingers touched her cheeks, smoothing over the soft peach of her skin. Hands cradling her face, Gilbert brought his face closer, time slowing down as Elizabeth's eyes widened. 

Giving her plenty of time to pull away, he closed the space between and their lips connected. 

Elizabeta had kissed men in the past, countless even and she could remember maybe the best of three. 

Her first kiss had been a young girl she'd charmed at a local bakery. 

Second most memorable kiss had been a man from her cavalry who'd delivered not only a hot kiss, but the most steamy night of sex she'd ever experienced. He'd died the next day in battle and she hadn't had time to morn his lost.

And the third most memorable had been with Roderich. It had not been their first kiss, but it occurred during a time when they'd both settled into the Austrian household, with Italy under their charge. Everything had seemed right, so comfortable, fitting together like a real family. But now they all paled in comparison to this kiss.

Gilbert was commanding, maybe nervously or perhaps slightly reluctant. Deepening the kiss, his hands held her face with a tenderness she couldn't believe he was capable of. A lick from his velvet tongue caught Elizabeta by surprise, but she allowed it, opening for him she moaned into his mouth. Stroking along the soft palate of her tongue, she pushed back, enjoying the battle they fought on new ground. He tasted bitter and warm, like beer and the novelty of the idea almost caused her to laugh as they broke apart panting slightly.  
“I've always cared” Gilbert said softly, standing and offering a hand to help Elizabeta up. They stood, stepping apart cheeks red with heat, eyes dazed.  
“Well, I'll be seeing you then”


End file.
